Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Valentines Text Message

My brother normally lives in Italy, but for the month of February he is residing in Las Vegas. I know this sounds random, but things usually are when you're in the military. Since he's in the states again, it's super fun to text message him because he's capable of responding. Too bad when he does respond, he turns everything into a competition. It gives me an impression of what it would be like if perhaps one day my brother and I had the privilege of living in the same time zone together.

With that, here's my favorite text message conversation yet:

Me: Valentines at Red Lobster!!!!!! Jealous?

Little Bro: Valentines at the Hoover Dam. I think we both know who wins the V Day.

Me: Cheesey biscuits always win.

Little Bro: I got miracles of engineering in front by a lot.

Me: At least my significant other doesn't look like Hayden Penatierre. (this is proof that I suck at competing over stupid shit with my bro)

Little Bro: Flawless victory.

Me: You win... this time. But when you're on your way back to Italy, I'll be sipping a pina colada on the shores of Mexico.

Little Bro: And I'll be drinking wine in Tuscany. I'M SO CULTURED!! YOU CAN CALL ME YOGURT!

Me: Cheesy. Biscuits.

So yeah. I lost that one. It's a tough competition when your opponent/brother lives in multiple places. But I still enjoyed my Red Lobster... by a lot.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Goth Time

What is a goth? I've always had this vision that a goth is someone who is into things like darkness and evil. But not the kind of evil where it's scary like killing people. More like "eeevil". Like ghosts and pentagrams and candles and... I don't know. Evil stuff that's really evil if you're a super Christian, but not that evil if you're straight up hangin' with the real world.

Ugh. Let me start over. I had a friend in college who was and still is (as far as I can tell from her facebook page) a goth. And while she looked like she was into satanic rituals what with her dark hair, pale skin, heavy make up, and platform boots, she actually was pretty ass-kicking cool. She wasn't a really close friend, but we did have a number of classes together and friends in common, so I was aware of the crowd she hung with. And the funny thing is, her close friends, her group, weren't really goth at all. She was the only one that I knew of. We had a lot of writing classes together because she was into creative writing, and she hung out with my at the time boyfriend's ex roommate a lot. She wrote great poetry and papers and the subjects were never about satanic rituals or darkness. They were about love and heartbreak and full of wordplay and nuances that played tricks on your thought process. If they were depressing, it was depressing in a fun way. Not a goth way.

I remember her telling me once that being a goth is a lifestyle, but it was just one piece of her. A very apparent piece, but as I got to know her, I realized she was totally right. The people she surrounded herself with were various and interesting. There was this day, Halloween maybe, where she speculated she was going to dress in khakis and a blue shirt, since that would be out of the norm for her. She had a great sense of humor, and a wonderful portfolio. She was outgoing and pleasant. And she had a favorite pair of cow spotted pajama pants.

I don't know why I wanted to write about my goth friend from college. Maybe because everytime I see that goth girl from NCIS I think of her.

Anyway, don't judge a book by its cover people.

Friday, February 19, 2010

House Hunters Drinking Game

Ok, so I thought I was really clever about a month back when my boyfriend and I were drunk in the basement, watching football. During commercials we would change the channel to HGTV's House Hunters and proceed to make fun of the badly edited and poorly staged show. As we drank and watched we decided it would be a brilliant idea to drink because of what we were watching. Thus our idea for the House Hunters drinking game was born. I quickly downed my Cosmo after deciding to drink every time someone said "nice", "view", or "entertain". And when the buyers decided on House #2, I was ready for more. You seem like a good place to post my House Hunters drinking game, blog, but alas! It already exists. In an attempt to put at ease my worries of others jumping on this idea before myself, I googled "House Hunters Drinking Game" and lo, I came up with many an answer. So I cannot take credit for this game, but I can perhaps include my own reasons to drink within it.

Here's the best version I found.

Of course amendments can be made as desired. Like if the buyers are rich, and are displeased with a "small" bedroom, living room, or any other "space" (drink!), take a drink. Or if you happen upon a clearly staged and uncomfortable scene, drink. If buyers become concerned of their children being hit by traffic, drink. Or perhaps there's some nice hardwood floors that be goin' on. Take a drink bizzos! And you can never forget entertain, entertain, entertain. Drink, drink, drink!

Through this process you should be thoroughly buzzed after just one or two episodes of this show. It's so lame, yet so fun! I've also realized you can make a drinking game out of anything. But House Hunters is probably the best TV drinking you can do these days.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Homeless Poignancy

What's with the homeless = poignancy feeling I get every time a drunk and bumbling homeless person wobbles up to me and asks me for change? I feel like there is some hidden meaning in the action. Like I should suddenly find out something about the world that I didn't see before. Isn't that what homeless people represent in shit like books and movies anyway? The idea that the protagonist has been missing throughout the entire story and then he or she finally sees the glorious light in something ugly and forgettable. But then there's real life. The drunk and bumbling homeless man who wobbled up to me tonight and asked me for a ciagarette had no light for me to see. I am not moved to write a poem about it. I'm not moved to relate it to a movie. I guess I'm moved enough to blog about it. But the word "blog" has become something that doesn't carry poignancy with it, but more just a "talking about shit" kind of essence. That's why I like blogging. It doesn't have to be heavy.

I don't often find poignant discoveries about myself and world when I encounter homeless people. My life is not a movie. However, to the contrary, homeless people I encounter seem to be on the prowl for some poignant discovery for themselves. They are their own screenplay, asking for change, feeling hopeless, hoping for some movie-esque event to take place and change their lives for the better right before the credits roll...

The man who I encountered tonight was begging not only for a cigarette, but also some sort of weird wisdom/soulful intensity/verifcation of his poignant ways or what have you. It was actually hard to understand him between his mumbles. But he fit into the category of the homeless person you encounter who tries to poetically sum up big ideas with small phrases. After telling him that I didn't have a cigarette, he made his way to the revolving door to leave the building we were in and he just stood there. It seemed that he was trying to push through it, but was too drunk to do so. I asked him if he needed help pushing the door, because I like to bring this sort of thing onto myself whenever I can (lie).

"We can all stand on our own."

He mumbled other things as well, but this is what I made out from it. We can all stand on our own. Yes, we can. Unless we have some sort of physical disability, most of us are able to stand on our own. But of course he didn't mean this literally. Drunk and homeless statements such as this one can only come from a figurative point of view. We can all stand on our own. We don't need help from anyone else, girl who is awkwardly standing there listening to me. How dare you ask if I need help. I'm strong. Look at me. Overcome with strength.

He actually did make it through the door which I was pretty impressed by. He went outside, wandered around. I thought he was gone. I continued to wait for my bus. Suddenly he was back in my view. Back through the doors. Back in my personal bubble.

With alcohol on his breath he told me he had a question. I told him to ask me his question, since I do this all day anyway, what can one more question hurt? Well, after mumbling and apologizing for taking so long to ask the mystery question he was going to ask, he ended up telling me that I was something along the lines of "worth it", or maybe "you have to believe in you" or something like that. I told him thanks and if he didn't have a question for me, then he'd have to leave me alone. But the poignancy! This homeless man was desparate for his pertinent wisdom and feelings to be doused upon the public, rum flavored breath and all! It got to the point of awkward, but he eventually left me alone and then my bus finally came. I got on and went home. The heavy importance of a movie life was gone from mine, and I was more than fine with it. Noticing fellow bus riders who look like my friends is more my style, yo.

I realize this man has an addiction. I realize he's probably been shit on by a lot of the people in his life. I realize he was reaching out, perhaps in an interally desperate, be it though daily,attempt to connect with someone somewhere and receive some verification that he is a human being worth something besides ignorance. Maybe I'm wrong about all this stuff, but I've been watching a lot of Intervention lately, so it's got to count for something. I think that's why I asked him if he needed help with the door...

Anyway, I think my point here is that I did not feel poignant in that situation, though I felt I should have felt that way because that's what the movies make you want to feel. But when are movies ever like real life? They're not. Homeless man felt poignant because he was drunk and had major life issues. But there was such a disconnect that there was absolutely no middle ground between these two points of view. We both stood and had an incredibly awkward interaction, from my end of things anyway. No light was seen. No resolution made. Just an observation by a sober girl and a interally and personally magnificent speech made by a drunk. And now I realize that movies capitalize on the space between sober, employed girl and drunk, homeless guy. Way to go, Hollywood.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Birthday Time is Here and, Yes, It's a Time of the Year

Ryan and I came up with a realization the other night. It happened to be my brother's birthday, and we were out eating at Buca (which is deserves its own entry) when a party a few tables down from us started singing happy birthday.

"It's my brother's birthday today too", I said.

"It's everybody's birthday", concluded Ryan.

(for the record, I hate breaking down conversations with proper quotation marks and commas and shit, but it just saved so much time and explanation for this instance)

From here on, we listed everyone we know who just celebrated, or is celebrating a birthday soon. Let's see, there's my brother Ian, of course, table down the way from us at Buca, Oprah (all January 29th), Brandon from high school and Ryan's friend Nick (February 3rd), Brad from high school (February 7th), this guy I dated once named Justin (February 4th), improv Chris (January 31st), Audrey from high school (January 30th), my twin cousins Grace and Anthony (January 27th), ME, my friend Deb, and this girl Amber (February 5th), Theresa, Jake, and Trent from work and Ronald Reagan (February 6th), my old improv coach John and Ryan's friend Brian's fiance Lindsay (February 9th), Jill from college (February 10th), Jessica from college (February 13th), Leanne from when we were kids and Melissa from improv along with Abraham Lincoln (February 12th), Kerin and many peoples' relationships (February 14th), Mallory from high school (February 16th), and Ryan. Well, Ryan doesn't completely count, but in this case he does because he was supposed to be born on February 11th, but he was two months early so his actual birthday is December 11th.

Yes, one of my hidden talents is remembering when people are born. It is something I take pride in. But if we look beyond that, isn't it strange that there is such a cluster of birthdays? It seems that everyone and their mom was born this time of year. And Ryan and I figured out why!

The answer is pretty obvious when you think about it, but interesting nonetheless. We, or at least I, believe that it is instinctually programmed in our little procreating minds to mate during mating season, which would be... dun dun dun! Spring! Think back to nine months ago. The birds were chirping, the squirrels chattering, flowers were blooming and love and life were in the air. When would be better time to get it on and fertilize? The answer is that there is no better time. Spring is as good as it gets so everyone gets it on and then has babies in the dead of winter. There is so much birthday crap going on this weekend it's not even funny. But if it were funny, and actually it is pretty funny now that I stop and think about it, it would be a good time. Good thing birthday time is funny then, because this weekend is going to be full of partying. Whoo!

Now that I relayed that elementary discovery to you, blog, I'm going to go to bed. Tomorrow is that one guy I dated that one time named Justin's birthday. I don't really know what happened to him, but we're facebook friends so I'll wish him a happy birthday. Probably not.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Tiny Noses Are Beautiful

Tiny noses. It's all the rage! I love The Biggest Loser just as much as the next guy. I do my best to watch it every Tuesday (when I don't have improv) and I can't get enough of the weight loss that is the main factor of the show's ratings.

But I noticed something tonight. Tiny noses, bitches. All the people on this show have tiny noses! There is not one big schnoz present! This feeds my theory (one that I have not expressed yet in you blog, that is until now) that The Biggest Loser has the ability to find fat people who have an exorbetant amount of potential to look highly attractive when and if they ever end up skinny. You can see it in their faces from day one. I find myself saying "She'd be pretty if she lost weight" all the time with this show. I firmly believe this has to do with the small nose. Of course all fat people are going to look like they have a small nose, but on the other end of things, you know a big nose when you see one. Even though the weight of the current contestants of The Biggest Loser might actually be working in their favor when it comes to their nose, there is no doubt about it that everyone on the show has an small sized snout.

Check it bitches and hos (and yes, I'm slightly under the influence, otherwise you'd be ladies and gentlemen).

Small nose on fat person + working out with Jillian = hotties. God forbid TV ever has anyone average, or even ugly looking on it. Remember that show I was planning on auditioning for? You know, the Shakespeare one at the Anoka Community Theater? Yeah. I auditioned. And after a call back, and a discussion of "lead time" with the director, I didn't get in. At all. I'm confident in my performance skills. I have a minor in theater. I am educated in the methods of performing--not just reading--Shakespeare. I do improv every week. What could I possibly be lacking? I'll tell you. Cuteness. I'm not tiny. I'm not blonde. Luckily I have a small nose. It's the only feature I've got going for me performance wise. Seriously. This small nose thing is across the board. Why else is Santiago the Pug so freaking adorable all the time?

Tiny nose. It'll get you places. Now I just have to make the rest of me tiny...

What is the point of this entry? I'm not sure. But I watched The Biggest Loser. I observed. And this is my conclusion. The one constant of hotness is tiny noses. I'm also intoxicated thanks to my birthday being on Friday and my dear friend Sam (not me) insisting on buying me margaritas. Don't be jealous (although I hope you are).

I live in Maple Grove. Yikes.